Anabel Kerin: The Story of a New Nation
by Fax Rock 13
Summary: A troubled girl just going into adulthood finds herself in another world. Without anyone else, she learns the lay of the land and may get more than what she expected from such an empty island. Warnings for self harm and thoughts of suicide in the first chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Here goes nothing! Second time uploading this, hope it works this time!**

**Warnings: Self harm and suicidal thoughts**

**Description: ** **A troubled girl just going into adulthood finds herself in another world. Without anyone else, she learns the lays of the land and may get more than what she expected from such an empty island.**

Not too long ago, there was a volcanic eruption off of the coast of England. A new island was formed after a few years. The nations of the world understood what this meant for them, and they held a meeting. As usual, Germany took charge, explaining why this meeting was called on such short notice. "There will be a new personification arriving shortly. As they will not be old enough, being such a new nation, someone has to claim them in order to watch after them."

The nations fell into a state of excited whispering, England and France glaring at each other, both determined to claim the island that had formed very close to both of their countries. Germany continued, "Now, we will not have this turn out like America did," for once he had captured everyone's attention, even Greece awake and attentive, "so we will have each country state their claim. Calmly. Starting with England." He sat down as the man rose.

"Considering that the island is closest to my country-"

"That is not true, imbecile! It's close to both of us!" France interjected, but was quickly quieted by Germany's steely glare.

England cleared his throat. "As I was saying, it is closest to my country, so I should have first pick."

Germany nodded at the green-eyed man and he sat down as France rose, furiously muttering in French. "It is not closer to you! We should both go. Et see it together!" The man in the front of the room told France to sit, but nonetheless he agreed with the frenchman's idea. They would go to this new nation tomorrow and find the personification.

Not too long ago, there was a girl of age eighteen called Anabel. She was a very secluded girl, as her parents had recently died. She was left to look after her younger sister, Macy. Anabel had to get two jobs just to work off the bills and another to put food on the table. Their parents' wills had not yet been sorted out, so they were left with nothing more than a shell of a house, empty of all emotions.

Before they left, life had been very vibrant at the Kerin family. Every morning Sarah, the girls' mother, had woken earlier than she needed to in order to make a nice breakfast. Coming from an entirely french family, her food was always in that style. William, Sarah's husband, would come downstairs and turn on the television to the weather. He always had refused to watch the news in the morning, mumbling about how all it will do is bring you bad luck.

Macy would come down the stairs, tripping over her own feet because she was excited to share what she had dreamed about the night before. Anabel would follow soon after, headphones on but with a wide grin on her face. After they ate, she would rush to make the bus on time; this was her senior year and she couldn't afford to get any more detentions if she wanted to get into the school of her dreams. Sarah would walk Macy to her own bus stop, and after the bus came she and William went to work at the college. Sarah taught acting and William was a physics teacher.

One day, driving home from work, they got into a terrible accident. They died instantly and the girls had to drop everything and try to adjust to their new life. This brings us back to the current story. Anabel was in her room, working on bills. Macy was downstairs, watching television. She couldn't find the remote and she was just too short to reach the buttons on the top of the TV. Not wanting to bother her sister, she pulled over a chair, climbing on top of it. She was finally able to reach, she pressed the button. She pushed herself too much forward, though, and she fell, knocking the television on top of her with a loud noise.

Anabel ran downstairs, asking her sister if she was alright, before stopping short at the sight of her sister before her. Her eight year old sister was in a puddle of blood, eyes open and glazed over. The corner of the TV had hit her head and she was knocked unconscious. Quickly, she whipped out her phone and dialed 911, telling them where she was between sobs. They arrived minutes later, but there was nothing anyone could do. It was too late. She was gone.

The older sister was left alone in what now felt like a giant house. She went into her room and into her bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror and frowning at her image. Her jet black hair that went all the way to her butt was tangled from running her hands though it messily. Her blue-green eyes were duller than she's ever seen them, and surrounded by big red splotches, She lost her entire family within a week. She was left with nothing.

She went back into her room and sat down on her bed, lifting up her pillow and tossing it on the ground. She promised herself she wouldn't go back to this, but what choice did she have. She rolled up her sleeves and closed her eyes. She was stronger than this, wasn't she?

No, a little voice in the back of her mind spoke softly, you're not stronger than this. You've been strong for too long. Give up, theres no point now. She knew that if she argued with this voice for even a moment she would stop, but she didn't want to. She wanted it all to end. She wanted to see her family again. She picked up the razor and looks at it. There were little splotches of dried blood on the metal. She's done this before, but never to kill herself; she didn't see herself as suicidal.

Her phone started buzzing from the bedside table. She glanced over. Christine was calling. Her girlfriend. Ignoring it, she drew a thin line. The buzzing stopped, then it started again. Not wanting that to be the last sound she heard, she finally decided to answer it. "Hey," she answered, keeping her voice steady as she spoke, having only too much practice at lying through her teeth.

"Baby I just heard what happened. You alright?" Christine's soft voice flooded into her room and she sighed.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just need some time alone, you know?"  
Her girlfriend let out a small laugh. "I'm pretty sure that's the opposite of what you need right now, sweetie. Want me to come over?"

"No thanks, I'm fine, really. The lawyers are coming soon, I have to get ready anyways. Talk to you later, ok?"

"Alright dear. I love you."

She bit her lip. That was all she needed. "Love you too." The call was ended just like that. She drew another thin line, beads of blood dripped out more and more, each cut deeper than the last.

In an instant there was a painful agony flooding through her veins. She couldn't help but wonder if she was dying, if this was what it felt like to be torn from your body, but the pain didn't stop. It went on for what felt like hours, and she knew something was wrong. She didn't actually go deep enough to kill herself yet.

Once it stopped, she was filled with a warm light. It made her feel safe and exhausted, so she let herself slip into unconsciousness. She had a beautiful dream; she was back with her family. Her mother, father, and sister were all waiting for her at their dinner table, smiling. She sat down, knowing now that somehow she was where she finally belonged. They talked for a long time, but still it felt too short. As the time wore on, they changed slightly. Anabel could notice a drop of blood coming from the left side of Macy's temple, staining her light blond hair and matting it down. Her mother's nose turned at an angle that seemed impossible, her brown eyes dulling. Her father had blood trickling out of the corners of his mouth.

They were all dead, she remembered. They weren't a happy family anymore. It was just her. She had to get out of there. Standing up, Anabel made a run for it, but there was nothing. The only thing in the vast whiteness was the small table they were sitting at. She had no idea where she was, but she knew she had to get out of there. She ran and ran in one direction, but it kept looping back by the table with her decaying family.

There was the sound of a twig snapping and she awoke at once, sitting up. She found herself in the middle of a clearing of a forest. Disoriented, she tried to stand and took in her surroundings. There was a small hammock made out of leaves strewn together with the stems of plants. To the left of her she could hear rushing water and she walked closer to it, curiously. It was a small stream and she suddenly realized how thirsty she was.

There was another small snap of a twig and Anabel snapped her head in that direction. Slowing moving towards it, she finds that it was a rabbit making the noise. It's scared off by her and she goes back to the stream, sitting down and listening to the frogs croak. She spends days here, still plagued by nightmares of her dead family during the nights. There are many berries that she lives off of and she found that the stream's water is clear enough that she doesn't have to worry about drinking it.

A week goes by and she is very used to her small little island by now, and has even learnt how to make small fires with twigs and brush. She cooks small animals she finds already dead as the living animals start to get closer to her and, them being her only source of company, she would rather not scare them off.

**AN: Hope you enjoyed it! Read and Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hey everyone! Here's the second chapter. No warnings for this one. Also, side note: I'm sorry about the missing tabs in the beginning of the paragraphs but I don't have word and I don't know how to download google docs so I have to use the copy and paste one. **

About a month went by before Anabel could sense other people coming onto her island. She climbed atop the nearest tree and following the sounds of their careless footsteps, jumping from branch to branch. At last she saw them; two men, both in what appeared to be in their twenties. They were yelling at each other, the slightly shorter blond man with green eyes holding a map and the one with longer blond hair and bright blue eyes pointing out it's uselessness furiously.

"I'm telling you Angleterre, no one has been here before! You bought a map from a con man! This island doesn't even have a name! 'Tree Island'? Only a fool would believe that!"

The shorter man glares at France. "Who knows? It's not like you did any bloody better! You show up and you don't even have a boat! How did you expect to get here?! Were we supposed to walk across the bloody water?!"

As they argue, Anabel watches them curiously, wondering why her island wouldn't have a name. A bird starts to peck at her arm and she pushes it away, but it doesn't stop. She ends up making more movement than she would've liked and falls right at the feet of the two men that were currently arguing. Her large blue-green eyes blinks up at them and they stare right down at her.

Anabel scrambles to her feet, her dress made of animal hide swaying around her. She tries to talk but her tongue is tangled up in knots from not speaking in so long. The older nations can sense her fear and instantly soften their faces. "Hello, love. What's your name?" Asks the British one as the other helps her steady herself. She just watches them.

"We're not here to hurt you, mademoiselle," France says, trying to get any reaction out of her.

"Anabel," She manages to get out and the men smile. She points to them.

"I'm England, but you can call me Arthur. I'm here to take you home."

"I'm France, but you can call me Francis, and- Angleterre, remember that we agreed we'd let her choose!"

"I changed my mind, frog. Come on, now," England holds out his hand for Anabel and she takes it as France swears in french and continues to glare at England.

"You always seem to get the pretty ones, don't you? At least I got my dear Mathieu..." He doesn't shut up the entire way to the boat, but England lets him continue, still happy about getting the newest nation.

Once they arrive at Arthur's house, they have Anabel go into the bathroom to freshen up.

"She looks older than we expected her to be. Most new nations start out around ten, but she has to be, what, sixteen?" The green-eyed man whispers suspiciously to France.

"Oui. Maybe it's because of something else? She has to be the nation, no one else has gone there yet."

"I hope your right."

Being her first shower in around a month, Anabel reveled in the warm water flowing down her body. She found, to her amazement, that Arthur had a full stock of body washes and some very feminine hair products. After finishing anything she needs to do, she pushes the curtain open and steps into the cold bathroom. Grabbing a towel, she dries herself before almost screaming as she sees herself in the mirror.

Her hair, that she had kept braided tightly using a vine as an elastic, was now wavy and longer than she remembered, her porcelain skin was much more tan and covered in bruises; but that was not why she had to stop herself from screaming- she was younger than she remembered, sixteen at most. Anabel closes her eyes and counts to ten then opens them again, finding a younger self looking right back at her. She pulls on a dress that England had lent her from back when he housed many other nations under his control. She would need to remember to ask him to go shopping; it was a very girly dress, and not something Anabel was interested in wearing. She brushes her teeth and, finding a brush in one of the cabinets, she fixes her hair back into a braid, this one clean and out of the way.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Anabel opens the bathroom door and walks down the darkened hall, clenching the skirt of the dress in one hand, of the large mansion, lit by small chandeliers on the ceiling. As she goes, she lets her other hand reach out and drags her fingertips against the slightly cracking green wallpaper. After a few minutes she spots both England and France in the large living area, a small fire burning.

"Ah. Do you feel better now?" England asks, smiling warmly despite having just been concentrated on his paperwork.

"Much, thank you. About the dress..."

"You look beautiful, don't worry," compliments France, sweeping over and kissing her hand. She just looks down at him with a straight face.

"It's not something I'd wear. If I get a job I can work up the money-"

"Non. You don't need to pay for living here, Arthur kidnapped you! If theres anything you need at all, just ask him," he pauses, winking, "and if he says no, I'll get it for you, oui?"

"I really couldn't accept that..."

"He's right for once. You're my guest, I'll make sure you're comfortable. I can take you shopping tomorrow, if you'd like. There are plenty of shops around London-"

"Or we could take her to Paris," France reminds, butting in.

"There is no we in this, Francis. She's my responsibility. We're not turning her into another America, remember? I will take you shopping around London tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Fine," she responds, and her stomach grumbles.

"Would you like anything to eat, ma cherie? If you're going to be living here with Angleterre, then you won't be able to have any decent cooking for a while."

England scoffs but Anabel nods cautiously. She's been living off of bitter berries for a month, any real food would taste amazing compared to that, right? France wanders off into the kitchen, gathering ingredients and starting to make a delicious smelling french dish. Anabel wanders over towards him, quickly boring of England and his paperwork.

As she watches him cook, their words from earlier finally hit her. They're calling each other France and England, like the countries. That could be just nicknames, unless- but Anabel does not dare imagine what that would mean; that was just too absurd, even after waking up in a deserted island.

"Something on your mind?"

She quickly looks over at francis to find him staring at her, letting the food cook and leaning against the counter. She finally gets a good look at him, his hair longer than what she was used to on men and swept back into a low and loose ponytail. He certainly looks like he could be the embodiment of the French Nation.

"Mademoiselle?"

"Why do you call each other France and England?" She asks, not being one to make small talk. "Those are countries. People aren't countries."

He blinks. She really didn't know. "Non, cherie, sometimes people can be. I am the personification of La Republique de Francais. Arthur in there is my long time enemy, the United Kingdom. And you, my dear, are the newest nation. I want you to try something for me, oui? Close your eyes, that's it, now remember how it felt on that island. Can you hear a name? It may call at you through the wind, maybe even from a stream or the trees moving. But it's there. Listen closer, don't scrunch up your face. Relax."

"Faxland," Anabel says finally after a few minutes. Francis had gone back to preparing dinner, but had thrown glances at her every few seconds to make sure she was alright.

"Faxland, you say? Not a bad name. But I think I'll stick with La Petite Isle. It suits you." He finishes the food and sets it on serving dishes, Anabel helping him bring them out. "Merci."

They sit down to eat, Anabel struggling a bit because of the dress and England still doing his paperwork. "Arthur, if you are going to enjoy my meal, you have to enjoy it properly! Put the papers away, they'll be there after you eat my magnifique meal."

Grumbling, the younger man does as told and complains half heartedly about how he hates french cooking. Anabel watches them then takes a few bites herself. Her mouth waters instantly; it was the most delicious food she's ever tasted. Better, even, than her mother's. The other two nations can see it on her face, causing France to smile and England to glare at the other man.

After dinner, all three of them go back into the living area, but England soon retreats back into his office. Francis turns on the television, watching a french cooking show. Anabel soon realizes that it's the same one that her mother used to watch and she sighs slightly, causing him to look over at her. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I just like this show." She responds, still not completely sure if she can trust either of them with anything yet. She watches the show, pulling up memories of her mother, until it is late.

"Would you like me to show you to your room?" France asks, stifling a yawn. Anabel nods, and they go up the stairs into a maze of rooms labeled with names, finally stopping in front of one. Walking inside, she could tell this room had never been used before; she walked over to the bed, cautious, and then thanked France.

On the far right, against the wall and below a window, there is a dark wooden bureau. Anabel goes over to it and finds that it has a small amount of dresses, all looking older than her. She finds a silk nightgown and puts it on, going back towards the door and flicking off the light switch. There are two more lamps, one on either side of the bed, and she goes over and leaves the one closest to the window on. Instead of going into the bed, she sits by the window on a small loveseat.

It's after midnight when she finally decides to go to bed, and she quickly falls into a deep, dreamless sleep; for once not filled with a dining room table and whiteness.

**AN: It's gonna start to pick up from here, and I'm gonna also try to start updating every week. Probably on Saturdays or Sundays.**


	3. Chapter 3

Blue-green eyes blink open, squinting at the harsh summer light filling the room through the open window. France stands by it, having pulled back the curtains in order to let some light in. "Rise and shine, Ana. I've made breakfast."

She sits up, her arm instinctively going up to shield her eyes from the sun. "What time is it?" She looks around for a clock but finds none. Francis smiles.

"It's about nine o'clock, but if you want to go to Paris, we have to leave before Arthur wakes up. It'll just be a day trip, have no worries, but we can get you some clothes more from this century, oui?"

Anabel nods, getting out of bed. Making him wait in the hall as she gets dressed, she finds a dress that was slightly toned down fromt the one she wore yesterday. Figuring this is the best she can do, she allows France to lead her back into the dining area and they quickly eat, leaving as soon as they finish.

When Anabel gets to Paris, she can't stop staring at all of the buildings. She grew up in a small town, but she knew her mother had been from here. "Where are we going to get my clothes?"

"Follow me, I'll show you the best clothing store in the city; it's two blocks away."

They walk through the bustling streets, Anabel sightseeing and France watching her face light up. "My mom used to live here," she explains as they enter the store, the bell letting the owners know that people arrived.

Francis takes her over to the front counter and sitting behind it is a tall, beautiful woman. "Bonjour, Francis. Puis-je vous aider?" She smiles, her red lips giving way to perfect teeth, her tone obviously flirtatious.

"Oui, mademoiselle. Cette fille a besoin de quelques plus de vêtements. Quel est le meilleur que vous avez en stock?"

The woman points to the back of the store before batting her eyes at France one more time. "Come, they're over here," he says, showing her the way. There are racks filled with street clothes, but all of them are too fancy for Anabel's taste. She ends up taking a simple black shirt along with a layered skirt to the changing room first, Francis piling clothes onto the counter without her realising it. It's not like he was trying to be mean, he concluded, he just was very capable of knowing what would look good on other people.

Anabel bought ten more outfits at Francis' insistence and by the time they left, it was well into the afternoon. The blond convinced her to go out to eat with him and they found a nice english restaurant. "So, Ana, how are you adjusting?"

Chewing on her lunch thoughtfully, Anabel thinks it over. How was she adjusting? She hadn't really thought of that. "How should I be adjusting?" she asked, getting angry. She'd lost her family, her island, and any form of silence apparently. She's living in a strangers world.

"Cherie, I simply meant, do you feel well, all things considering? Is there anything I can do for you to liven Arthurs house?"

"No, I just want to be left alone, honestly."

Dramatic hurt flashes through the french man's eyes and the black haired girl rolls hers. "Don't take it personally. Can we go back to his house yet? I'd rather change out of this as soon as possible."

The car ride home was uneventful and left Anabel wondering if this is really what her life was going to be coming to. And then, a small part of her asked if it really would be that bad. She wasn't alone anymore, that was for sure. And not being alone is better than being left to dwell on the loss of her family all alone on a deserted island. Yet, for some reason, she wanted to go back there so badly; she could feel it in her bones. There was something about that place drawing her in, as if she actually belonged. Maybe she was a nation, everything they've said had made sense.

On their way up the English driveway, Francis pauses to open the door. "Germany? Yes, yes, she's with me. We're just walking up his steps! No I didn't kidnap her! I took her shopping, something that Arthur would never do properly. Of course she's safe, I've cared for my fair share of nations too, you need to remember, Ludwig." They reach the door and Francis is still arguing with the unknown man on the other side of the phone. Anabel opens the door, taking her new clothes from him and bringing them up to her room. "A meeting? I'm not sure if she's ready for that," he says hesitantly. England comes downstairs and bumps into Anabel on her way up.

"I'm sorry dear. Did he hurt you?"

"No, we just went shopping-"

"I don't think that's your decision to make! You'll see if she wants to come when we get to the meeting itself! Adieu!" Francis hung up his phone angrily, seething. He stomps over to the basement door and goes into the wine cellar that he forced England to install into his basement.

"What was that about?"

England sighs. "Some very stupid people who don't remember how hard it is for new nations. Germany expects you to already be capable of attending a meeting and Francis, god forbid, was right. You're not. You haven't even accepted the fact that you're a nation yet. Anyways, go bring up your clothes to your room. I need to talk to Francis."

Nodding dejectedly, she resigns herself to follow his orders. She puts her things away in her dresser, scowling at the extra items that Francis added to her bag. She didn't particularly mind dresses, but this one was a bitch much. It was, in every sense, a little black dress. Extremely short and strapless, there was no doubt that it would show off her figure. A lot of her figure. More than she felt comfortable with. Deciding she would never wear it anyway, she throws it in the trash in her room.

Downstairs, the two men were deciding what to do with the situation involving a young girl and a room full of nations. "We can't just take her there, she'll be eaten alive. What if Russia gets his hands on her? She can't protect herself. She's not prepared to go."

"She still has her own mind capable of making decisions, Arthur. It'd be understandable if she was curious, this is her future that we're talking about. Anyways, it is our responsibility to protect her."  
"My responsibility, Francis. I have no idea why you're still here! I have everything covered, thank you very much. I don't need your input on raising a young nation, I've done it enough times. She can't go to this meeting, it's too soon."

"If she's your responsibility then why didn't you take her shopping? Who is going to cook? No way will she be eating your food, you're the only one who can stand it at all. Remember how I used to have to come over when you went out and cooked Alfred and Matthieu food in order for them to not starve to death? I was involved with them and honestly, they both turned out fine. Any mishaps had nothing to do with me being there, but with their personality. America had always been a loud obnoxious kid, even if I wasn't there that wouldn't have changed. And anyways, what about Canada? He turned out perfectly fine, he's one of the better nations. Just let me help with her, Arthur."

Grumbling about frogs and their stupid 'helpfulness', he finally agrees. "Alright, git. But one toe out of line, you'll be back where you started. Understood?"

The older nation's eyes light up, "Understood, mon petit lapin. Now, shall we bring her down here and ask her what she wants to do?"

"Fine. Either way, we need to be careful. Even if she does stay she's weak right now. It's easy for someone to attack her. Someone would have to lend an army and stay with her. I don't trust any of the other nations with her, so it would have to be either me or you. Deal?"

"Of course. And if she goes we keep a close eye on her. Nothing will happen to her, I promise. I'll go get her, England." He slowly makes his way up the stairs, a slight bounce in his steps. There was nothing he loved more than taking care of children, especially when Arthur was involved. Even if he wouldn't admit it out loud, they made a really good parenting team.

"Anabel?" he calls, knocking lightly on her door. Having just finished putting her new stuff away, she opens the door.

"Who were you talking to on the phone earlier? You were talking about me, weren't you?"

"Come downstairs, please. Don't be so curt with me, you need to learn more etiquette. That type of attitude could get you in trouble later down the line, so please, try to be nicer."

French:

**Bonjour, Francis. Puis-je vous aider?** \- Hello, Francis. How may I help you?

**Oui, mademoiselle. ****Cette fille a besoin de quelques plus de vêtements. Quel est le meilleur que vous avez en stock?** \- Yes, miss. This girl needs some more clothes. What is the best you have in stock?


End file.
